


Bilbo's Song

by terryreviews



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo writes a song and Bofur enjoys it. He's even going to have a surprise for the hobbit to help him with his song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bilbo's Song

**Author's Note:**

> This was a pieced together fic that I might honestly come back and edit heavily later on to have even more content. But the gist of the fic was to a nice little quick request for tumblr user ajirzecwredny  
> who pictured Bilbo as the writer of the song Man in the Moon (think that's what it is called) and Bofur sings it and causes the dwarves to get all worked up which in turn makes Bilbo feel partial guilty for causing such a mess and what not...and it is just meant to be a nice sweet fic so I really hope the requester enjoys. I will gladly do any changes or expand or re-do it btw if you want me to. Let me know! :)

Bilbo pushed the wooden spoon past his lips tasting the watery seasons and chunks of bird shot down earlier in the afternoon by Kili. Sun fell below the horizon and the night was proving uneventful. Another night spent with a half full belly and the lack of warmth and softness of a bed. He smirked at himself realizing once again his own frailty by thoughts back to his home. Just like the reluctant heroes of his books he dwelt on the cold air, the hardship of gathering food, the hardness of the ground. Of course it was cold and hard. And he grew more ashamed and felt more estranged from the braver, non-complaining company. Years of displacement had caused acclimatization to _this_ life for the dwarves. Bilbo had no right to think himself strong enough to be there; no one would disagree. After all, it had only been four or so of them that had betted on his coming with them in the first place. With a sigh, he replaced the spoon into the bowel with an empty clack and walked over to place it down near the pot where the brothers Bofur and Bombur were tending and serving the stew. Ignored as he walked through the cloaks, weapons, bags, and bodies, he felt the increase of heat as he drew near to the fire. Curly haired head bent downward with a mumbled thank you.

“Yer welcome.” He glanced up to see Bofur smile at him and gave a timid smile of his own. An acknowledging nod and Bilbo with even less care hurried to return to the outskirts of the camp.

 

Finding an upturned stump, which he dusted off with a wearing sleeve, Bilbo sat. A gaze over his shoulder to ensure that not one of his companions noticed him and he reached into his waistcoat pocket. Unfolding the few papers and producing the pen and vial of ink Ori had lent to him a week or so ago, he laid it on his lap to review his recent creation. Books and songs had always given Bilbo a sense of wonderment That anyone could be creative enough to imagine such wonderful tales and melodies from nothing more than a sporadic flicker of inspiration had him envious. For Bilbo was a simple, fairly ungifted individual. And that's why he attempted to create. Very secretive of his work since before his tweens, he'd kept numerous volumes of journals on his shelf with already published works. Never telling not one soul of his work. Too shy, too afraid to give his works into the hands of the others for their disapproval.

 

Roaming his eyes over the pageful accomplished already, he pondered. If he did say so himself, it was not a terrible piece; rather good he'd think.

“What're you up to then lad?”

Bilbo's jolt sent the vial and pen toppling to the dirt and he turned a frustrated pair of eyes over his shoulder as he crumpled the paper into a crackled rectangle. Bofur stood over an glanced at the page.

“Oh, nothing really, just a bit of writing.”

“Writing eh? Didn't know you were creative like that.” And then Bilbo felt weight against his shoulder and an upturned braid tickled into his ear; face centimeters away from the other's and he snapped his head back to his lap. Then he noticed those gloved fingers reaching downwards towards the paper and gently pushing it open.

“The man in the moon? Catchy title that.”

“Oh, thank you.” Bilbo didn't know if he should enlighten Bofur to the fact that it was rude to read over someone's shoulder, let alone rest their head upon it, without asking or to let it go and enjoy the fact genuine interest was being given in both him and his work (despite his desire to keep it private). He was alone amongst the group and here was one...

With a tiny tickled throat cough he said, “It's a song.”

“Ooo, a song,” Bofur pulled away from Bilbo's back and plopped next to his side, “let's have a listen.”

“It isn't ready yet.” Bilbo hugged the paper to his chest, “I still haven't found the right tune for it.

“I'm sure it's fine. You don't have to sing it, thought I'm sure you've got a fine singing voice, lovely in fact, but can't you let me read it? I love music you see.” Magically producing his flue and playing a few notes to demonstrate his point, “taught myself. Any new tune I could play I jump at the chance. Besides, maybe I could help find a tune for you?”

Bofur almost laughed at the way Bilbo eyed him. Supposed it couldn't be helped; they did tease him an awful lot. With all he could, he offered one of his most eye twinkling smiles and outstretched an open palm. For a moment he wondered if his ego should've been wounded with how long it took Bilbo to hand it over. But was relieved to find he _still_ had it when the work was handed over. That smile had charmed many a lad and lass and he'd hate to think he'd lost his charm, breaking a near perfect record.

 

Bilbo had never been much one for sharing his personal work. Even before his tweens, he'd volumes of journals kept on the shelves with published works afraid to offer them into the disapproval of other's. He never considered himself a talented one with a pen and why encourage judgment when he didn't have to? But the open....handso....nice smile Bofur gave him found his hands empty.

 

Bilbo was unsure what to do with himself. He'd never had the situation of sitting there while someone was reading his private work _right_ next to him before. Not staring with eager for praise eyes would be a start. So instead he turned his head to look _all the way over_ (getting a crick in his neck for his trouble) away from Bofur as he could.

 

Three minutes ticked by. Three. Minutes. It was not a long piece, it should not take 3 minutes to read it. And then he thought perhaps common tongue was hard for Bofur to read? It wasn't his first language. Oh no, certainly not. It was common tongue, wide spread, the dwarf had lived in villages of men. That was not doing credit to his abilities. Perhaps his handwriting? He always thought the gentle curves of his letters were pleasing to sight and easy to read. Now he was self-conscious. With a breath he turned his head slowly back to his critiquer. Who was holding the piece in one hand, twiddling a finger in his mustache.

 

“Is it... _bad?_ ” He finally asked which caused Bofur to glance at him from the corner of his eye.

“Nah, it's a nice little song. Was just thinking _how_ it could be sung was all. Sorry I didn't speak up but here ya go.” Bofur handed his song back and the set about pulling out his pipe and weed from his coat pocket.

Bilbo took the paper and swallowed, “So you enjoyed it?”

Bofur put the pipe between his lips and glanced back at the twitching hobbit with a smile, “Yes. It was nice. Not a dwarvish ballad but a good little tune. Makes me think of Blunt the Knives to be honest with how it should go. Fast and fun.” A puff floated into the wind.

“Well...thank you. To be honest I didn't think much of it but...it seems to have found an audience.”

“Something you could sing at a dinner to be sure.” Another clumped puff floated against the backdrop of stars before Bofur leaned against the hobbit a bit. If Bilbo noticed the slight change, he didn't mention it.

 

Perhaps it was dwarvish custom to get so close to their companions. They seemed a rather physical bunch of folk. Bilbo just enjoyed having at least one in the company that seemed to do more than tolerate him. He did come over and attempt conversation with him. And liked his song to boot (even if he did kind of push him into sharing it)! Perhaps there was hope for this quest if Bofur continued being this kind to him. And very, very slowly, as a show of appreciation, Bilbo laid his head against Bofur's shoulder. If the dwarf minded, he did not say.

 

Over the next few weeks of travels they'd traveled and while the song was never brought up again, Bilbo and Bofur shared a few more moments. The dwarf was curious about hobbit life and would sit next to him during or after meals to hear small stories of his life. Why the dwarf would be interested in his daily activities of drinking in the Green Dragon or his favorite way to cook a fresh fish caught in the local river, he couldn't say. But the closeness of another's body against his when Bofur leaned into him. And it was nice to hear the processes of shaping metals into beautiful items like weapons and armor (though he'd not used a sword in his life, the passion in Bofur's eyes and motions of his hands as he talked rubbed off on the quiet halfling) because of how passionate Bofur was over his abilities.

 

The one thing that stuck out to Bilbo was when he'd woken one morning to the hushed snores of the other members of the others and chirps of early birds and found his body coated in a coat of sweat despite the known dampness of such early hours. Lifting his head he saw Bofur standing at a distance smoking his pipe...without his coat.

 

When the feeling of being watched came over him, Bofur turned to look at the snug bundle of a burglar and grinned giving a small wave. Grateful that Bilbo had chosen to sleep on the outer edge of the cluster of camp, Bofur came over without having to step over several others. Stepping on either side of the hobbit's feet and looking down at him Bofur smiled and said,

“Nice and cozy were you?” He wasn't teasing...

“Uh, thank you.” Bilbo hurried and sat up to rip the coat from the top of his blanket to hand back to the dwarf, sleep still clouding his eyes.

“Oh don't worry about it. Just wanted to help keep you comfortable. Can't have you...” Bofur stopped, thinking better of finishing his sentence he reached down and took back his coat and playfully ruffled the curls of Bilbo's hair. “Go back to sleep, still got an hour or so, no need for you to up and rush when you don't have to. I'll keep watch.” And with that Bofur wrapped his coat round his body over his belt, he'd fixed it later. The chill crept over Bilbo's body through the lesser layers, yet his face had grown warm. Bofur really was kind wasn't he?

 ___________________________________________

 

Life had never been more precious to Bilbo than in the moments when he was faced with losing it; and running across the plains while vicious wargs and orcs chased after them in the open daylight would be one of those moments. First the trolls, now something far more deadly and smarter. Not a race known for their physical prowess, Bilbo had a great difficulty keeping up with the band of dwarves as they darted rock from rock. His lungs hurt from panting, skin sweaty under his layers, but thankfully he wasn't carrying the weapons or packs. What a thing to think as he ran for his life! Running and running. And then...that warg and orc that Kili brought down to them. Oh what a racket it made! If it hadn't been for Gandalf finding that secret path into Rivendell, and if the elves hadn't chased away the rest of the orcs...they could've all ended up dead.

 

 _______________________________

Thorin was not pleased. How could he be? Of course he was probably grateful to be out of danger, to fall into the hands of those whom he felt betrayed them must've been quite unpleasant. In fact, he noticed the tension in all of their bodies as they crossed into the city. All the dwarves had the same distrustful tension in their bodies being surrounded by the elves. In fact, when the horses came rushing towards them, Bilbo hadn't failed to notice as  Bofur placed him behind his body as if they were under attack.

 

Personally, Bilbo felt a warmth in his heart as he felt the magic and the beautiful scenery graced his eyes. It was good to know that a bed, a _real_ bed, would serve him tonight. And food. What would elvish food be like? Would it be the seasoned yet thin stews he'd had to eat. Not that they were bad and he was grateful that for as useless as he was, the dwarves still shared their food with him, but mayhap they'd be getting multiple, larger courses given.

 

While vegetables and delicate wines were not of the dwarves's particular tastes, Bilbo found the generous offer of food most gracious and tasty. The soft music played on harp and flute were pleasant enough, soothing. But if Nori's comment of being at a funeral were anything to go by his companions did _not_ share his sentiments. They did not trust elves, they didn't like their food, and they sure as anything did not enjoy their music.

 

“Alright lads, there's only one thing for it!” Bofur's voice carried over from his table to Bilbo's and with wide eyes the hobbit watched as Bofur stood on the pillar in the center of the area. What was he...

 

With an extended hand Bofur took a huge breathe and at their host, the king of the elves of all beings, and began, “There's____ an____”

Oh please, not...Bilbo's roll fell from his hand to his plate.

“Inn, there's an inn, there's a merry ol' inn beneath an old gray hill!”

 

What really startled the halfling was when all the other's had sung along as if this had been a classic song they'd sung at all their dinners. It may have been better than tossing dishes about and singing about their destruction, but with all the food now finding their way around the table, with the all but shouted lyrics (though he did secretly enjoy the purr in Bofur's voice during that one line...and he did set a nice rhythm and his voice at least was lovely...) he wasn't sure this truly was a better option.

 

When he was done Bofur _bowed_ at Elrond and after applause from the company, hopped off the pillar. Bofur grinned at Bilbo's stunned, red face. And then the cheeky bastard _winked_ at him after he'd taken back his seat. With a guilty once over he observed the massive mess that his companions had made of the dining area. But unlike _his_ home, he doubted highly the dwarves would clean the mess. One small blessing was the elves had only supplied breads, lettuce, onions, and the like. Not wet, greasy, gushing meats, cheeses and his prized tomatoes. As wide spread as the mess was, it would be easier to simply sweep it away.

 

Bilbo made _very_ sure that his hands were in his laps. And at one point during the whole song had even made a point of eye contact with the elf nearest him to show how he _wasn't_ participating, would _never_ participate in this chaos. Though a small part of him wished he could throw just _one_ roll. Straight at that overly charming olf across from him at the second table. Who noticed him half heartedly glaring and actually stuck his tongue out and then went back to gnawing at some bread. Before tossing it _right_ at Bilbo's head.

 

Poor Bilbo's reflexes were not the sharpest and flakes of flour and crumbs caught in his bangs. If he hadn't felt so guilty that it was in part due to his song riling up the dwarves to give a repeat performance of their food fight weeks prior, he might've retaliated. Bofur smirked at him as if suspecting his own head would be safe from retaliation for a while and once again gave him awink. Why did that make his stomach tingle?

 

“What was that!”

“Good evening to you too.” Bofur said as he began stripping down to his long underwear; a laughter teetered on his voice.

“Oh don't you good evening me. What was that at dinner?”

Bofur put his clothing on top of his pack, straighted and then looked fully at Bilbo without the slightest hint of apology, “Like that did you? I was quite proud of it myself. I hadn't thought the boys would've learned all the lines. It took me a few minutes to commit them but I got it."

“That's what I'm trying to get at!” Bilbo waved his hands as his cheeks reddened.

“I told you I'd find a melody for you didn't I? Now you got a way to sing it.”

“That's...not what I was getting at.” Bilbo scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed.

Bofur chuckled, “Whenever you went to sleep since you often fell asleep before we did, I taught the lads the words. Wanted to surprise you with it. Never told me I couldn't share it.”

Bilbo flushed, “I thought it would be implied.”

“Now Bilbo, don't get so worked up over a bit of fun. Everyone enjoyed it after all.” Bofur reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, “You're part of the company and I wanted to give you something to show you that. If it was showing you how you've a way with words then I'd take it.”

“But you made such a mess for our hosts _with_ my song!”

“Oh those pointy ears are too stuck up for their own good. A bit of rough housing will do them some good. And you heard Nori, they play music fit only for a funeral. As I told you, your song, fun and fast.” And as if Bilbo were a child, Bofur squeezed the tip of his nose and said, “Now you ought to get some rest while you've got the chance to enjoy the indoors for a while. I'm going to stay with the others and cook up some _real_ food for tonight. Come by if you want some. I'll leave you a portion, provided I can hide it from Bombur.” That made Bilbo chuckle before controlling himself. He was meant to be cross, _wasn't_ he?

 

As the hobbit sat in his bed, under warm sheet, he wondered upon the actions of Bofur and his words. The dwarf hadn't meant to cause embarrassment or distress, and while that may still be there under the surface, he couldn't help be a bit flattered. Bofur had liked his song that much to surprise him with a melody and to have gotten all the others in the company to learn it so he could have them all sing it for him. The moment though they'd chosen hadn't been planned, but...Gandalf had a point. They were a bit of a merry gathering when you got used to them. He snuggled under the blankets and said to himself, “I could...get used to Bofur.”

 

 


End file.
